


Burn You to Life

by dollylux



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Asphyxiation, Background Het, Dry Sex, Electrocution, Emetophilia, Hebephilia, Homophobic Language, Knifeplay, M/M, Piquerism, Rape Roleplay, Robbery, Slight Sociopathic Tendencies, Somnophilia, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 21:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13152483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: Jared has an itch to scratch. But he pulls a knife on the wrong bitch (and, predictably, falls in love).





	Burn You to Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [homo_pink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/homo_pink/gifts).



> Written for my beautiful homo_pink. This was, of course, supposed to be longer, a much more thorough story, but we both know why that didn't happen. I hope you like it anyway. You own every single bit of me, no holds barred, and I'll never let you forget it<3 /map emoji
> 
> Title from Stone Temple Pilots.
> 
> (Additional FYI: Jared is thirteen, and Jensen's thirty-five.)

**Wood Middle School**  
14800 Judson Road  
San Antonio, TX

Library Computer Lab Records  
September 1997  
Computer #16  
**Student:** J. Padalecki

**askjeeves.com searches:**

_what are the best websites to see free boobs?_  
_where can I find hot pussy pics?_  
 _where can I watch Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee’s sex tape?_  
 _where can I see Pamela Anderson’s boobs?_  
 _what happens if you jerk off too much?_  
 _what are knife laws in Texas?_  
 _how can I look harmless to strangers?_  
 _what are the most expensive cars you can buy in Texas?_  
 _is squirting really a thing?_

 

\---

 

Jared rides the bus to and from school.

Mom’s way too busy to drive him, and he’s never thought to ask his dad. Bus gives him time to listen to his Discman and curl up with his knees digging into the back of the seat in front of him and to people watch as the bus makes its patient crawl towards the school. And Jared’s a master of playing it cool, but he’s about to jump out of his skin this morning.

Today’s the day.

Mom’s always there in the morning to make sure he gets on the bus, so this transport to the school is obligatory but just for show. He shuffles off the bus and heads back down the sidewalk instead of following the drones of kids into Wood Middle, headphones on, Sponge blasting loud in his ears.

He’s tall for his age, and he knows from experience that if he walks right and keeps his jaw set, he can pass for a high schooler. His dad’s always told him that Jared inherited his hitchhiker’s thumb, and Jared curves it out for the very first time towards the endless line of cars and tries to look like he does this all the time.

He hopes to fuck nobody recognizes him.

It starts to rain and so he pulls up the hood on his jacket, looking like even more of a delinquent but managing to shadow most of his face from nosy parents. After a twenty minute parade of nothing but Toyotas and Jeeps and Fords, a sleek black Audi sedan comes in to view. Jared shoves a hand into his pocket and grips the butterfly knife there as his adrenaline spikes.

That’s the one.

As luck would have it, traffic slows down again and the Audi crawls to a stop right beside him. Jared pauses the CD and shoves his headphones to his shoulders before curling down to try and see the driver, relieved when he doesn’t immediately recognize him. The guy, some good-looking dude with longish hair and longer eyelashes in a suit stares straight ahead, not even glancing over at Jared. Like he’s hypnotized or maybe just very determined not to pick up a hitchhiking middle schooler this morning.

Smart guy.

Jared pulls his hand from his pocket and knocks on his window.

The dude startles and glances over to meet Jared’s eyes, bright, clear green locking with his through the rain-spotted glass. Jared can see the knot of his jaw when he clenches it. The passenger window lowers slowly, letting out some of the heat from inside the car. The door is locked when Jared tries it.

“You gonna unlock the door?” Jared says, bypassing some of the niceties he’s stored up in his head for this. Meg tells him that he looks scary without realizing it, so he’s been practicing his smile in the mirror at home.

“Shouldn’t you be going to school?” the guy asks. The window is only down an inch or so. Jared can smell his cologne. His coffee. He looks like a model or something.

“I’m tryin’,” Jared replies. He tries to rest his arm on the window, but there’s not enough room. It slips off awkwardly. “I go to James Madison.”

Green eyes squint at him.

“What grade are you in?”

“Ninth.” Jared holds his gaze, trying to look casual and truthful all at once. “Do you really want me to walk all that way in the rain?”

That does it. The flash of guilt on the guy’s face nearly makes Jared grin, and his sigh is as good as permission. Jared hears the quiet snick of the doors unlocking.

“Get in,” he sighs again.

Jared lets himself smile with his victory as he opens the door and sinks into the warm car, dragging his messenger bag into his lap and shaking the rain out of his hair when he pulls the hoodie off. That shitty “Butterfly Kisses” song is playing on the guy’s radio, and Jared can’t keep the look of horror off his face.

“Oh, shut up,” the dude mumbles, reaching up to change the station. “It’s better than morning shows.”

“Barely,” Jared retorts, side-eyeing him as he gets his hand on the knife in his pocket again. They’re next in line to go through the 4-way stop sign that’s slowing traffic so much, and Jared counts to five after the guy finally gets past Wood Middle before he pulls the knife out and opens it with a flick of his wrist that looks easy but had taken him a month to perfect.

He feels like he’s gonna puke, but he leans over and puts on his meanest face as he presses the blade of his flea market knife to the guy’s throat.

“Keep driving,” he says.

The guy slams on his brakes, just a stutter of the car, but it’s enough to make the sharp blade dig into his pale skin and the car behind them lay on their horn.

“Please don’t hurt me. You can have--”

“Just. Drive.” He angles the knife with another turn of his wrist, making the point of it drive right in against his jugular. The dude’s eyes are so green that the rest of the world beyond the car looks faded in comparison. He’s shaking already.

“Okay,” the guy manages, his hands gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. “Okay.”

This is so easy.

The guy puts his left signal on when they get to the stop sign at Stahl, but Jared leans in closer, fights the uneven timber of his changing voice to sound dangerous.

“No. Turn right.”

The rain really picks up as they inch down Stahl, and the turn into the empty parking lot of Holy Trinity Presbyterian has them completely alone. The guy puts the car into park and dares to turn towards Jared, his tender throat dragging against the blade.

“Are you going to take my money?”

Jared raises his eyebrows. Doesn’t mean to.

“Um,” he starts, shifting in the warm seat and readjusting his grip on the knife. “Yeah. Yes, I am. Gimme your fucking money.”

It’s intense, the way the guy holds his gaze as he slowly lifts his hips up off the seat and reaches into his back pocket. A brown leather wallet comes out and he hands it over without a pause.

“A couple hundred bucks, some credit cards. I just ask that I get to keep my license. Please don’t make me go to the DMV.”

There’s a hint of a smile on that soft mouth, and Jared stares at it as he takes the wallet with his left hand and flips it open.

“Jensen Ackles,” he reads off the guy’s license before fishing it out and handing it over. “You’re the guy on the billboards.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Jensen huffs out, the pink on his cheeks showing up immediately. Jared almost drops the knife. “The firm took a vote. They decided I was the most photogenic of them all. Used a picture from my modelling days. Embarrassing, really.”

Jared digs the knife into Jensen’s neck harder without even realizing.

“You were a model?”

“That hurts,” Jensen says softly. There’s not an ounce of pain on his face, but Jared eases up with the knife anyway. Almost apologizes.

“Well. You know that I’m for real, then. That I’m not just fucking around.” Jared sits up as much as he can, just as tall as Ackles is, at least while they’re sitting. Some Amy Grant song is playing now, and Jared grits his teeth. “And change the fucking station.”

He notices that Jensen’s fingers tremble as they fumble with the presets, and he sees for the first time that the rose-stain on his cheeks extends to the seashell curves of his ears, down his neck and into his expensive suit jacket.

STP’s “Wicked Garden” is in full throttle on 99.5, and Jared’s halfway to complimenting him for his choice when Jensen speaks again.

“So, what now?”

Jared fights to keep his face neutral.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve got my money.” Jensen nods at the wallet gripped in Jared’s hand, strangely forgotten. “I’m late for work. You’re late for school. So what are we doing? Just waiting for the rain to let up?”

Jared feels his temper flare up. He fights to get a knee on the seat so he can tower over Jensen, his head bumping the root of the car.

“Listen, I don’t need your smart fucking mouth, you hear--”

“Are you gonna make me suck you off?”

Jared nearly drops the knife.

“What?

“What else would you need me for?” Jensen looks pretty calm, considering, and Jared watches in some kind of fascinated horror as a wet pink tongue slides over Jensen’s lips. “Our options are pretty limited inside a car.”

“I’m not a fucking faggot,” Jared laughs, lip curling in disgust. He shifts backwards in the seat, stopped by the door. “That’s disgusting.”

The knife is still extended between them, the tip of the blade pointed out towards Jensen, but Jared’s too far away now to really be effective. Back to back Stone Temple Pilots. “Down” sludges out from the speakers.

Jensen unbuckles his seatbelt. Slides closer to Jared, only stopped by the console between them. The sharp edge of the knife finds its way back to his pale throat, right over the irritated lines the blade’s already left there.

“You don’t have to be a faggot to let a guy suck your dick.” He’s so close now that Jared can smell his cologne, probably some designer shit only sold in boutiques or something. “Especially not when you’re committing a crime. It’s just a power play.”

He sounds so persuasive, his voice soft and curling up like a secret between them.

“You’re in charge, right?” Jensen tips his head back, baring his neck. Jared drags the knife over his skin, letting it break through just barely, the faintest tinge of red showing up beneath.

“Yeah,” Jared breathes. They move at the same time, Jared slumped back against the door and Jensen pressed hard against the console, his hands already reaching for Jared, for his hoodie, for the button of his jeans. He tips his hips out without meaning to and lets the hand holding the knife sag to his side.

“Then make me do it.” Jensen tugs at his unbuttoned jeans, the first couple of zipper teeth sliding down. He’s curled down like he’s got Jared’s money instead of the other way around, and Jared can already picture this way too vividly. A hand clamps around his wrist and pulls the knife back, letting it graze the side of Jensen’s neck this time. His eyelashes are so long they’ve gotta be fake.

“Make me,” he says again.

“S-Suck my dick,” Jared huffs, cupping the back of Jensen’s head, gentle at first but he catches himself, shoves his fingers down into the thick, dark honey of his hair and grips it hard, yanking it by the root and pulling him forward. “You better do a good job, too. Gimme the best you got.”

“I’ve never done this before,” Jensen admits, like he’s ashamed. He’s got Jared’s jeans undone and has his dingy underwear pushed down and Jared’s as hard as any thirteen year old with a knife in his hand and a mouth near his dick. His dick is an impressive length and he knows it, maybe even smirks a little at how wide Jensen’s eyes get, at the way he tries to back up, stopped by Jared’s hold on him.

“You seem like a fast learner.” Jared doesn’t know where the fuck he got the courage to talk like this, especially to an adult, but something about it makes Jensen’s cheeks go even hotter, the color bleeding into his still untouched mouth. He yanks on Jensen’s hair, giving him a hard shake that makes Jensen bite down on a whine. “C’mon, we don’t got all day.”

Jared catches the lie the second Jensen gets his mouth on him, because there’s no way this is his first time slobbering on a dick. Not with the way he starts in with his tongue and focuses on the head and gets everything nice and wet before he ventures any further. He doesn’t even have a hand around the base. Jared’s newly teenage nuts twinge, a fired warning shot.

“Holy fuck,” he blurts out, fingers spreading out at the crown of Jensen’s scalp, his hips snapping up to try and ride Jensen’s face. The angle down his throat is awkward and way too tight, and the bend lodges him in a place so tight he can’t breathe. His eyes are closed up tight and the knife has slipped somewhere down around Jensen’s adam’s apple, and Jared swears he can feel the press of it through Jensen’s throat, against his cock buried there.

Jensen gags, and Jared finds a few seconds to feel flattered by it.

He fights against Jared’s now-desperate grip on him, trying to pull away, to dislodge the dick in his throat, and the struggle just makes Jared grin, blissful and cruel and he can smell the unmistakable metallic scent of Jensen’s blood in the air. He must’ve cut him again.

“No,” Jensen tries to say, but his mouth is full, throat bloated with middle school dick. He chokes and gags, the convulsions life-changing on Jared’s rutting, excited cock, and it’s just as Jensen lurches and grips Jared’s thighs too tight, just as he pukes up what looks like a full breakfast and feels like heaven, that Jared punches his hips full-on against Jensen’s face and comes straight down into his stomach. Jensen manages to spew that up, too, whole globs of foamy, thick white burbling out of his mouth and around Jared’s dick, dripping audibly on Jared’s lap.

The knife clatters to the floorboard and Jared sags boneless against the door, only his arm still working, using Jensen’s mouth to squeeze out the last few shivers of his own nut, not minding at all that he’s completely covered in his own spooge and half-digested cage-free eggs and fresh squeezed orange juice or whatever the fuck this prissy bitch eats.

He’s in love with his throat.

Jensen pulls off of him the second Jared loosens his grip, and his eyes are so bright with tears and red with strain that Jared actually keeps his own open to meet them. He watches Jensen sniffle, watches him wipe snot and puke off on the back of his hand before he touches his neck, careful and coming away smeared with blood.

Jared feels it building. The intense, horrifying need to apologize. He tastes bile in his own throat, the good boy hidden under the bad one wanting to come out and beg for forgiveness.

But Jensen grins. Leans forward again and swipes his bloody fingers over Jared’s slack mouth before he kisses him, full and with lots of tongue. Jared pushes past the instinct to gag and pushes his own tongue against Jensen’s, tasting bitter remnants of an aborted meal and the weird, familiar musk of his own jizz.

“You’re pretty good at that, kid,” Jensen mumbles against his mouth, wiping Jared’s lips off after he pulls back. He looks Jared over as he settles back in his seat and pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and starts to wipe his own face clean. The almost motherly disapproval on Jensen’s face makes Jared’s blood run cold with instinctive fear. “Look at what you made me do. You’re a mess now.”

Sorry gets tangled up on Jared’s tongue, and he wipes lazily at his hoodie with the sleeve.

“I-I’ve got a flannel in my bag. It’s cool.” Jared fumbles around on the floor for the knife and comes up with it, not missing the strange longing on Jensen’s face when he sees it.

“Are you really gonna take my wallet?” Jensen’s hair is fixed, his face clean but flushed, and his narrowed eyes force Jared’s to stay locked to them as he holds his hand out, expectant.

Jared sighs. He drops it into Jensen’s waiting palm, only looking away when it’s no longer in his possession. A shuffle and a crinkle and Jared feels a single bill tucked into his hand, trapped between his hand and Jensen’s.

A crisp one hundred dollar bill.

Jared knows he looks as young as he is when he stares at Jensen again, wide-eyed.

“Now, get out of my car,” Jensen says, but he’s smirking.

The rain has slowed to a drizzle, and Jared barely notices the mess he’s dripping in the church parking lot. Jensen pulls out and continues up the street, leaving Jared with his pants undone, his balls empty, and money for his services clutched in his hand.

The walk back home is dazed, green-tinged and dreamy.

 

\---

 

Dad has an ever-shifting group of guys who come over to watch Monday Night Football, who crowd in the den and fill the house with their boozy cheers and low-slung compliments about the cheerleaders. Jared only makes himself known when the pizza shows up, and he eats his pile of slices in his dark room where he can brood in peace.

Monday night, a couple of weeks after Jared’s first semi-successful armed robbery. He’d blown the money on a stack of comic books and some badass new headphones for his Discman, and he’s jerked off every single night inside of the vivid memory of Jensen’s magical mouth.

He’s stalled-out on his homework and listening intently for the doorbell, dying for the four slices of bacon, sausage, and black olive pizza he’s gonna swipe as soon as it gets here.

The Cowboys are losing and all the guys are kind of quiet when Jared wanders into the den with his empty plate and empty belly, and he doesn’t even look around at the group of pouty grown men as he stacks slices and snags a bottle of root beer from the cooler beside Dad’s chair.

“Son of a bitch,” comes a soft voice when a bunch of other guys groan, and Jared stops just inside the doorway and looks back into the room, heart pounding loud in his ears, blocking out the game sounds and the distraught complaints of everyone else.

He knows that voice.

Tucked in between Jon from next door and some guy with a full beard and a Harley shirt is a comparatively lithe figure, one too beautiful to just be lost in a sea of body odor and muttered curses.

Jensen Ackles. Jared’s first… well. Everything.

“Get enough, Jay?” Dad asks, distracted but good-intentioned. Nobody really pays Jared much mind, and he could probably slink out of the room without being seen by a single one of them, but it’s all too much. Too perfect. Like some kind of pervert god wants this to go down again.

“Yeah, ‘sfine,” Jared replies, grip tightening on his plate as he stares right at Jensen in equal parts terror and the kind of lust only brand new teenagers are capable of. “I’m just, uh. Stuck on some homework.”

“Mm.” Dad still doesn’t look away from the game, but he has his head turned toward Jared, which is something. Jensen is still glued to the TV, a nearly empty bottle of Shiner dangling from long fingers, one of which has a gold band striping it. Jared feels the steady churn of jizz in his balls as his dick goes from asleep to half-mast just standing here. “Anything I can help with?”

“Oh, just, uh.” He thinks back to his brief conversation with Jensen, the one that came before he got his spine sucked out through his dick. “Just working on some social studies. All this stuff about the government and laws. Just confusing.”

“Laws, huh? Ackles over there is one of those big-shot attorneys who makes too much damn money. I bet he can answer a few questions.” Dad nods over at Jensen who reluctantly tears his eyes from the game and glances over at Jared.

The glass bottle of Shiner hits the wood floor with a echoing thunk, the last few dregs of beer spilling across Mom’s newly shined floor and seeping into the cracks.

Jared couldn’t keep the desperation off his face if he tried.

“What do you say, Mr. Ackles?” he asks, strangling the bottle of root beer in his own hand so it doesn’t hit the ground, too. “Would you mind helping me with my social studies homework real quick?”

Jensen looks truly stunned, his eyes as big as the barely legal Japanese cartoon girls Jeremy’s so obsessed with. The flush from the other day is back with a vengeance, spreading over Jensen’s cheeks and creeping down his neck.

Jared has never wanted to fuck something so bad in his whole life.

“S-Sure,” he finally replies, standing up from the couch like he’s being controlled, completely bypassing the spilled beer and the long legs separating him from Jared, and it’s only when he’s a couple of feet away and Jared can smell his cologne that he realizes he’s never seen Jensen standing up. Had no idea how tall he was.

He’s got a good three or four inches on Jared.

“You workin’ in the kitchen or--”

“My bedroom,” Jared cuts in, his voice way too low to be where they are, who they are. “Upstairs.”

The guys in the den have already closed up ranks again, all of them tuned back into the game and completely ignoring Jared and Jensen standing just a few feet away, planning out a crime. It’s perfect.

Jared takes the stairs in twos, socked feet thundering in a way that usually has Mom yelling at him, but she’s at her book club meeting down at Bev Wallace’s place. Jeremy’s out on a date, and Meg’s watching _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ at Joni’s.

He practically falls into his room, only a few steps ahead of Jensen, but it’s enough time to set his food down and kick dirty clothes under the bed and into his open closet, making sure everything is vaguely presentable before his doorway is filled with the star of every nasty daydream he’s had for the last handful of days.

“Are you allowed to have your door cl--”

Jared gets a hand in the soft cotton fabric of Jensen’s dark grey henley and uses the grip to pull him into the room. He shuts the door as quiet as he can manage and flips the lock, but all his attention is on crowding Jensen, edging him in until his back’s pressed to the door and he’s trapped between it and Jared’s skinny body that’s trying so very hard to be taller here, and Jared doesn’t have enough pride to stop himself from pushing up onto his tiptoes and slamming his mouth against Jensen’s so hard it knocks his head back against the door.

He eats at his mouth like he plans on chewing and swallowing what he can tear off, and he sucks so hard at Jensen’s tongue that the aborted sound of it being pried out of Jared’s mouth nearly startles him.

“No, no, no,” Jared breathes, cupping Jensen’s chest like he’s got tits, squeezing and massaging at them and letting his restless cock press up tight to Jensen’s warm stomach. “C’mon. C’mon c’mon, please--”

“This is a _felony_ ,” Jensen hisses, his hands flat against Jared’s stomach, pushing back against him but not managing to dislodge him.

“Not if I’m forcing you.” He stares up into Jensen’s eyes and grabs at one of his wrists, watching his pupils grow wide and dark and take over the green there as he pushes it down to rub rough and impatient over Jared’s tented sweats. “You want me to force you?”

“If you’re forcing me, I don’t exactly get a say,” Jensen says, enough of a smile in his voice that Jared takes it as a yes. His fingers come to life on Jared’s cock, cupping the heft of it and rubbing it through two layers of soft cotton, and it’s enough to make Jared sopping wet, to make his slit flutter out some slick as he rocks into Jensen’s touch, his breath already coming out harsh, stuttered.

“What’re you doin’ here?” He sucks Jensen’s bottom lip into his mouth and nurses on it like it’s gonna feed him. Jensen cups his balls and pulls on them just hard enough to make Jared’s thighs shake like a dog.

“Came over with a guy from work. Friends with your dad. Said he had a 55-inch TV and surround sound. Couldn’t say no.” Jensen relaxes back against the door, slumping so that they’re nearly the same height, his light wash-clad thighs spreading so that Jared can press right up between them, so he can hump at Jensen’s tight body like it’s mating season, like he won Jensen far and square in a brawl and he’s his for the taking.

Jared tightens his grip on Jensen’s wrist, cutting off his circulation and stilling his hand. He rests his forehead against his, his eyes fighting to stay open.

“Gimme a sec. I’m about to blow.”

He can feel Jensen’s smirk, can feel the curious twitch of his fingers along the length of his dick. He hisses softly.

“Just from this?”

“Could come just lookin’ at you,” Jared says against his mouth, letting the shivering tip of his tongue dip out to lick at the seam of Jensen’s lips. It’s only Jensen clamping down on the root of his dick when he sucks Jared’s tongue into his mouth that keeps him from busting right there.

“Thought you weren’t a faggot,” Jensen teases him. His lips are so soft as they nurse at Jared’s tongue that he’s lost for a moment in the thought of what he must feel like inside.

“I’m whatever it takes to get my dick inside of you again.” Maybe Jared watches too much porn at Uncle Dan’s house, or maybe he’s just being too fucking honest, but whatever it is seems to work, key in a lock. Jensen’s hips press forward, his dick a firm lump in his jeans, and despite being fully clothed, older, and taller, he’s holding himself like a bitch, like the most needy thing Jared’s ever let himself imagine.

“We gotta be quick,” Jensen huffs out. He pushes at the elastic waist of Jared’s sweatpants, fumbling into his underwear to pull his dick out. “Does your bed squeak?”

“U-U-Uh.” Jared stares down between their bodies, watching Jensen’s fingers get all shiny with his precome. His eyes flutter. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, I guess. When I get really into it and--”

“Chair,” Jensen says, pushing Jared backwards and guiding him by his grip on his prick. Jared shuffles backwards until he hits his desk chair and plops down in it, his dick swaying hard when Jensen lets go of it to stand over him and start working on his own pants.

Jared watches in stunned silence, barely processing what’s happening because Jensen’s kicking off his Nikes and shoving down his jeans and his black Calvin Kleins and his dick is perfect, is peachy-pink tipped and surrounded by hairless, freckled skin, like nature decided he was too pretty everywhere to be obstructed by hair. His thighs are toned but just soft enough, and it’s only when Jensen spits in his own hand and reaches behind himself that Jared registers what’s happening, what’s going to happen, why this is different from the other day in the car and--

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, strangling his dick and pinching his slit so hard that tears burn in his eyes, but he doesn’t come. Somehow.

Jensen’s eyes are wild and glassy, like he’s as hungry for this as Jared is, and he can tell that Jensen’s stuffing fingers up into his own ass by the way his arm is moving.

“Are you g-gonna…” Jared licks his lips, reaching for Jensen’s hips when he steps closer, spreading his thighs and squatting over Jared’s still-clothed lap. “Are you gonna let me fuck you?”

“Thought you were making me.” Another gathered wad and Jensen gets one of his perfect hands on Jared’s dick again, this time to slick it up with spit and steady it so that he can lower himself down on it. All the muscles of him that Jared can see in the low light from his desk lamp are tight and stretched, like some kind of swimmer-ballerina-pornstar hybrid.

Jensen is curled down over him, his solid weight settling down on Jared’s body at the same time Jared feels a hot, impossible pressure on the head of his dick that seems like it will never give until it does, until he’s breaching it and being swallowed up by it and he’s suddenly submerged in bruising tightness so burning hot and obliterating that it physically hurts.

“Oh, God,” Jensen hiccups, his whole body tense and arched straight up, his insides so unused and unprepared for this that they won’t take in the last couple of inches of Jared’s dick, even with all of Jensen’s body weight pressing down.

Jared feels like he’s drowning, like he’s being devoured whole by Jensen’s body, and all he can do is grab at him, is squeeze the softness of Jensen’s belly and his hips and the toned swell of his ass, using all that flushed skin to anchor himself, to have something to hold onto as his whole life’s purpose changes.

This. This is where he was always meant to be.

“Feel so good,” Jensen whispers, hot and suddenly so close to Jared’s mouth, the words said in a purr that sounds like it’s straight from a 900 number. The wheels on the chair roll until the back of it hits the desk, and Jensen must use the tips of his feet to keep them still as he starts to move, starts to work Jared’s dick around up in himself. The chair creaks and protests but not as loud as his bed would, and it’s only when Jared squeezes whatever he’s holding in his hands that he realizes he’s gripping Jensen’s ass tight, holding him just to feel the motion of his body, to feel the rhythm of his hips, to help guide him in his maiden voyage on Jared’s dick.

He stares up at Jensen like he’s a mystic and Jensen’s a fevered vision, a whore-hipped saint, his secret Mary Magdalene. Jensen’s got him trapped under his body, got his arms draped over Jared’s shoulders and his hands in his sweaty hair and his guts moving in faster and faster sucks around his cock. It occurs to Jared then that he’s in love already, that this feels exactly like when real believers talk about religion. He’s making disgusting sounds, messy ones, almost-a-virgin noises as he uses all his strength to try and lift his hips, to help out at all, to bang around inside of Jensen’s ass with as much skill as he can gather.

Jensen sounds like a psalm, like a honeymoon bride, maybe, so thickly contented and dreamy-mouthed that Jared wonders if he’s even fully awake at this point. He reaches behind him and fumbles around on the desk, shoving aside notebooks and pencils and a calculator until he finds what he’s looking for.

The compass he uses in math class used to belong to his dad, so it’s ancient and metal and heavy, and the sharp point at one end is absolutely deadly. He grips the whole of it in his hand and brings the thick needle-tipped point to the exposed meat of Jensen’s neck, to the hollow place where his pulse jumps. He presses in, maybe a little harder than he means to. Jensen’s hips stutter hard, his ass rolling on Jared’s lap, his shuddering thighs spreading.

He whimpers, and it comes with a drawn-up, pained face, with a trembling chin and a tightened clutch of his arms around Jared’s neck. There’s an intimate, choking series of convulsions around Jared’s cock, a flutter of his insides that nearly pulls the come straight out of his dick.

“Please,” Jensen breathes. He’s gone very still, his back arched hard around Jared’s left hand that’s tucked into the dip of it. Jared can tell without looking that he’s already punctured skin.

Jared doesn’t have to ask him what he’s begging for. Doesn’t have to be guided this time. He’s thought about this a whole fucking lot.

“You better put that ass to work and make me come, bitch,” he grits out, twisting the compass and widening the pierced hole in Jensen’s neck, but he stops before he lets it go deeper. “Or I’ll push this right on through and find a juicy artery.”

It’s all shit right out of his spank fantasies, all the stuff he’s said under his breath while he choked his own dick out in that bed right over there, dreaming about a second chance to have this exact creature on his dick somehow.

He still blushes as he says it though, still has to readjust his grip on the compass so it doesn’t slip in his sweaty palm. But the way Jensen’s shaking on top of him now, the tip of his dick nudging at Jared’s belly as he starts to really work Jared’s cock, slopping it around inside his ass with deep curls of born-this-way, slutty hips, he can tell that it’s doing it for Jensen, at least.

“Gonna come,” Jensen tells him, strangled in a way that tells Jared he’s waiting for permission. He slides the compass from Jensen’s neck and drags it down his back, not stopping until he’s scratched over the jut of his tailbone and let the sharp tip dig right in to the delicate, stretched-thin skin of Jensen’s rim, only millimeters from where Jared’s cock is punching him open.

The way Jensen shakes apart all around him is like the world ending. Jared has no choice but to fall with him.

Jensen’s mouth is on his neck, and he’s sobbing as he sucks a nasty bruise into his unwashed skin probably just to gag himself so the whole goddamn house doesn’t hear him. Jared strains under him, lifting Jensen’s collapsed weight with hard drives of his hips, getting as much friction as he can as he dumps what feels like the biggest load in history right up into Jensen’s ass.

Neither of them are playing it cool anymore, and Jared drops the compass with a clatter and hugs Jensen down on top of him, amazed at how easily they move together, at how their bodies seem to speak some common language already. He tips his head up and laps at Jensen’s neck, tasting the blood he drew there tonight as Jensen rides out the last few waves of whatever is coursing through his body right now.

“Jesus Christ,” Jensen pants against his jaw, the chair squeaking as he digs in hard against Jared’s lap, his legs spread almost in a perfect split to do it.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jared tells him, no pride left to speak of, nothing left in him to keep him from saying it. He pushes a hand up under Jensen’s shirt and pets over his sweaty, burning hot skin, stroking along his spine and trying to bring him back down somehow.

His virginity belongs to Jensen now. There’s no turning back from that. He feels it like the weight of a wedding band on his left ring finger. Like a band that matches the one on Jensen’s own finger, the one that Jared hasn’t asked about yet.

“Smart thinking, digging out that compass.” Jensen smiles against his cheek before he pulls back and meets his eyes, the colors of his face in beautiful contrast with each other, making him seem otherworldly. “Am I that obvious?”

He runs his fingers down over Jensen’s ass, rubbing at the shallow puncture beside his still plugged asshole. It comes away sticky-slick, and Jared’s mouth waters at the thought of what blood from such a sacred place would taste like.

“A little,” Jared admits, grinning when Jensen huffs, like his feathers are ruffled.

“Pretty observant for an 8th grader,” Jensen remarks as he climbs off of Jared’s dick, leaving a slimy trail on his sweats in his wake. He reaches for the box of Kleenex beside Jared’s lap and snatches a few out to wipe at his ass, the tissue coming away pearl-shiny and the most delicate of pink.

Jared’s eyes widen as his fully grown dick slops out of a prosecutor and lazes back against his clothed thigh.

“You… you knew?”

He watches distractedly as Jensen gets dressed, wiggling into his tight underwear and snug pants with private dancer shifts of his hips. Jensen nods at the desk behind Jared, at the binder there with _Wood Middle - Jared Tristan Padalecki_ written in pencil among detailed, surrealist drawings of monsters and dismembered bodies and slimy entrails.

“You don’t fuck like a middle schooler,” Jensen reassures him, primping in the mirror behind Jared’s dresser, pushing his long, sweaty strands of blond back from his face until he looks just as perfect as before he ever walked in here.

Jared just stares at him.

“How do you--”

“See you next week,” Jensen says, leaning down for an invasive, teasing kiss before leaving the room and pulling the door closed behind him.

He wonders somewhere in the back of his pussy-whipped, reptile brain if he’s being used. He looks down at his lap, at his used, wet dick, at his blissfully empty ballsack that’s just barely started to sprout hairs. He grins.

It really, really doesn’t fucking matter.

 

\---

 

Jensen’s married. To a fucking chick.

She’s pretty and blonde and Jared wonders if he picked her out of a catalogue. He learned last week when Jensen came back and let Jared load him up doggystyle that this, tonight, is his tenth anniversary.

He’s been half-heartedly sticking his dick in a girl for a decade. There’s probably not a Hallmark card for that.

The restaurant is some steakhouse on the Riverwalk, and Jared nearly rolls his eyes for how hungrily Jensen eats the giant slab of meat on his plate.

“Slut,” he whispers to himself, every part of him soft except the impatient 8 inches in his pants. The view through the window is just enough that Jared can keep an eye on them, that he can see the moment Jensen gets up and heads to the bathroom after he’s finished his main course and just before dessert.

Sneaking in through the back and into the kitchen is easy, especially during the dinner rush. The bathroom is just off from the kitchen, and Jared slips in before the door has even closed behind Jensen, flipping the lock behind him.

He’s standing there at a urinal, the musical trickle of piss hitting porcelain muffling the quiet footfall of Jared’s sneakers. He’s got a pocket-sized cattle prod that he swiped from the Co-op ready to go in his hand, and with Jensen’s dress pants loose around his hips as he pisses, it takes no effort to push the prod down the back of them and between his asscheeks as he wraps an arm around his neck in a practiced chokehold.

Jared feels the wild spray of piss as Jensen lets go of his dick in sudden, mortal fear.

A press of a button has the electric buzz of the cattle prod singing as it electrocutes Jensen’s asshole, and Jared has to lock his knees to keep them both standing as Jensen’s knees buckle. He tightens his grip around Jensen’s neck, cutting off his air even more, watching his face turn a deep scarlet.

“Happy Anniversary, baby,” he whispers, pushed up to the tips of his toes to say it right against Jensen’s ear.

He closes his eyes to feel the next blast of current jolt through Jensen’s system, and the loud echo of his sobs ricochet around them like bullets.

“Please,” Jensen manages, his face going from red to purple alarmingly fast. His fingers pull ineffectually at Jared’s arm. “Don’t.”

It takes some maneuvering, but Jared manages to get his dick out and wedge it between Jensen’s clenched cheeks, and when he forces his way in dry, Jensen’s shiny dress shoes skid over the tile floor until he’s all but hanging from Jared’s choking grip, more than halfway to losing consciousness.

Good.

“I love you,” Jared says for the first time, and the kiss he presses to the overheated back of Jensen’s neck is earnest, is the most truthful part of him. He tears into Jensen’s cunt as he finally passes out, and Jared can just let go and use his ass in peace for a few minutes until he uses the cattle prod on his taint to wake him up.

Jared nuzzles Jensen’s well-moisturized face as he works him open, and he realizes just as Jensen starts to leak come into the urinal instead of piss that Jensen, his blue-faced, unconscious future baby mama, is smiling.


End file.
